


Getting There

by WreakingHavok



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Blood, Gen, Mentions of Death, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Sad, Vomiting, eating disorder (kind of), just be careful, kinda hopeful ending?, trigger warnings include:, twins being twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 21:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14679552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WreakingHavok/pseuds/WreakingHavok
Summary: Mabel used to have a brother who laughed so freely and carelessly with her and looked at her like she was his whole world. And she never used to hide it when she cried, but she turns and muffles her sobs in her pillow so Dipper won’t hear them.She never used to have a brother that punched mirrors because he kept seeing his reflection with bright yellow eyes and a feral smile, either, but here they are, she thinks.Or,Turns out, things aren’t how they used to be.





	Getting There

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: a few things are taken from Quillium’s ‘say good morning’, a beautiful piece of art that you all need to read right now. They have a few personal headcanons that they put in their story and I may or may not have adopted them, but all credit goes to Quillium! 
> 
> TW: blood, eating disorder (kind of, just be careful), panic attacks, PTSD, vomiting.

Mabel thinks that maybe, once upon a time, she used to know her brother.

She used to know everything about him, used to be able to know exactly what Dipper was going to say before he said it, and she used to be able to say the exact same thing at the exact same time so their voices blended in perfect unison. She used to be able to make him laugh, the kind that leaves you breathless and almost-sort-of crying, the kind that leaves you smiling so wide your face hurts for hours whenever you talk. She used to know exactly what would set him off, and she always knew when a smile was creeping onto his face behind her back as she made a fool of herself to make him happy.

She used to know exactly what he needed and when he needed it, used to be able to sneak him a piece of candy whenever the teacher had turned their back; she knew exactly what kind to give him, and she used to know with an unchanging certainty that he’d take it, no matter how full he was or whether or not he was taking notes. She used to know his favorite food - she used to beg their mother to make it five days a week so that they ended up having it at least once, and she used to smile as he ate half the dish and thanked their mom joyously. 

And she thinks, once upon a time, Dipper used to smile. She thinks, once upon a time, he used to walk with his head held high and a lightness to his shoulders, she thinks that maybe, once upon a time, Dipper didn’t wince whenever someone laughed just a little too loud, and he didn’t slouch like he was trying to hide from something not even he could see. She thinks that maybe, once, he wasn’t scared of catching himself grinning in the mirror, and maybe, once, he’d been able to smile without wondering if he’d ever stop.

They share a room, now, after their parents noted that Mabel often spent the night in her brother’s room anyway. They never used to do that. And Dipper never used to be uncomfortable around her, but when she gets close he tenses up, like he’s scared he’s going to hurt her. She knows that he used to believe he had control of his body and mind, but now she thinks he’s not so sure. She thinks that he used to curl his arm around her shoulders as they walked side by side and he didn’t keep his hands always tucked in his pockets and shy away from her like he thought his arms would reach out of their own accord and shove her into oncoming traffic.

And maybe he has lost more control than she thought he had, because she knows that they used to have a mirror in their room, and now they don’t, after she walked in one morning to find it smashed on the ground. She knows that Dipper is the one who broke it because even though he told their parents it must have just fallen, there was a band-aid wrapped around his wrist, just barely visible only to her above the seam of his pocket. She looks, at night when he’s asleep, carefully pulling his sleeve down and seeing his hand peppered with small cuts, and she finds shards of blooded glass in the bathroom trash can, and the back of the mirror has almost unnoticeable smears of blood from whomever shoved it over.

Dipper never used to wear everyday clothes to bed, but now Mabel has caught him one too many times with a packed bag under his pillow and his shoes ready to put on, and he stutters about needing to be ready to leave any minute, and Mabel, what if there’s an emergency? And Mabel never used to persuade him to at least put the bag on the floor and at least put on some sweatpants instead of jeans, but here they are, and waking Dipper up from his nightmares to be met with wild eyes and cold sweat definitely never used to happen, but now it’s practically a nightly occurrence. 

School is worse than ever, and it hurts to watch. Dipper has lost all his passion for learning, flinching through the unit on trigonometry when he used to be so excited about it before. He keeps his head down and never looks up to meet people’s eyes. It’s a victory to get him to say one word to her when other people are around, and he never used to pull the brim of his hat down over his face, but more often then not she finds herself talking to her classmates with a faceless pine tree hat curled up next to her at the lunch table.

Her brother never used to have panic attacks, but she knows he does now, after searching the halls for him only to walk in on an empty classroom filled with his fast breathing and a sloppy Cipher circle drawn on the blackboard as he shook beneath it. They don’t happen often, he swears. She doesn’t know if she believes him.

Mabel thinks that maybe, she used to know her brother, but the person she used to know is gone and replaced.

She used to have a brother who laughed freely and carelessly with her and looked at her like she was his whole world. She never used to have a brother who sleeps with his shoes on and keeps a sock puppet in his pocket and who can’t walk down stairs without remembering how it feels to be thrown down them.

And Mabel never used to hide it when she cried, but she turns and muffles her sobs in her pillow so Dipper won’t hear them.

She never used to have a brother that punched mirrors because he kept seeing his reflection with bright yellow eyes and a feral smile, either, but here they are, she thinks. 

And Mabel isn’t happy, okay? She admits it. But she’s fine with that.

If she was happy, that would mean things were going her way, and she can’t stand when that happens anymore.

~

Dipper thinks that maybe, once upon a time, his sister was happy.

Mabel is a ball of joy. Mabel always has a smile on her face and a wacky thing to say to make anyone feel better. She is fire, she is sunshine, she is glitter and rainbows wrapped in a care package held by a teddy bear. Mabel is everything he could ever want, Mabel always wears a goofy sweater and can always make him feel better, no matter what. Mabel’s life is beautiful, just like her, and she brings light everywhere she goes. She loves everything, even Dipper, even though he knows he doesn’t treat her right all the time.

And he feels especially bad now. The twin brother deal has been upgraded, nightmares, hysteria, and PTSD included, and still she rubs his back when he wakes up crying, she covers up the mirrors in the bathroom, she rearranges her class schedule so she can be with him if he starts to panic.

She does it all with a smile, but Dipper thinks that it looks a bit cracked now. 

They have a fight, one night - he’s just woken up from another rousing edition of his twisted nightmares and he’s shaking while she comforts him. She goes through the motions, holding him in her arms and telling him it’s all going to be okay, that she understands -

And he laughs, the sound wild and a little bit scary, because how on earth could she possibly understand? She has never seen the horrors of the apocalypse like he has, has never been possessed by a literal demon. He tells her so, as loud as he can be without waking their parents, short and sharp and filled with too much vehemence to be sarcastic - shut up, Mabel, you haven’t even come close to understanding.

He watches with delayed horror as she reels back, letting her arms drop, and he misses her warmth as soon as it’s gone. You did that, it’s your fault, whispers a nasally voice in the back of his head and Dipper stutters, still too angry and scared and a little bit too embarrassed to apologize, but tries to justify his statement anyway. Because he’s proud, too proud, and pride comes before the fall, Pine Tree -

You were stuck in paradise, he snaps, and he feels another involuntary shiver shake him. You didn’t have a care in the world, your life was perfect!

A perfect world where you made a perfect brother, a better brother, a brother who doesn’t scream at his own shadow, a cooler brother who is loved by everyone, a brother you don’t have to be ashamed of, a brother who supports you like he should.

And if things were okay, Mabel would’ve spouted back her own retort, and if this was the Mabel he used to know, she would’ve indignantly scoffed and said, yeah, but -

Dipper feels his heart crash down to his stomach.

Mabel curls up into her nightgown, big, wounded eyes filling up with tears. Dipper takes a breath, burying his head in his knees and digging his fingernails into his arms.

You made your sister cry, good job. In her perfect world, that never would’ve happened, no wonder she didn’t want to leave. You’re such a screw up, the family freak, you’re more like me then you’d care to admit, Pine Tree -

Mabel says nothing more, instead scurrying back to her bed with an eerie silence, and Dipper shivers again. 

Yes, he has problems. No, he’s not who he used to be. But it’s not fair to assume that Mabel’s fine, it’s not fair to say that she’s not just as traumatized as he is.

Dipper's losing his mind - he needs to do something, to give himself purpose, or he’s going to break apart. So he swears to find out what’s wrong with his sister, and maybe in the process he might feel a little better too.

Dipper laughs silently, curling up under the blankets. He doubts that he’ll ever be able to fix himself.

~

Dipper’s actually having a kind of good day.

No one talks to him at school, but they don’t give him funny looks anymore and really, he didn’t want to talk to them anyway. He didn’t freak out during Geometry and he answered a question in Biology, and he gets in the car after school with a small smile on his face.

They don’t take the bus anymore, not after the first day; when both of them had simultaneously flinched at the garish yellow bus and they made up an excuse to avoid riding it. Their parents would never know the real reason they drive their kids to school every day isn’t actually because Jack from the basketball team is throwing spitballs at them.

As Dipper buckles his seatbelt and tries to ignore how trapped he feels with it on, he thinks that if things were okay, Mabel would already be blabbering to their parents about her day and begging for a stop at the nearest burger joint for some fries.

But Mabel is sitting stock still, remaining deflated for the whole ride, only offering plastic smiles, being overly cheerful and deflecting answers to her parent’s questions.

And as they exit the car, Dipper turns around just in time to see Mabel deliberately slam the car door with the corner of her favorite sweater stuck inside. He’s about to open his mouth to ask what in the world she thinks she’s doing, when she braces herself and yanks her body away from the car as hard as she can. There’s a horrible ripping sound, and she stumbles, a gaping hole in the side of her shirt, the rest of it stuck in the car door.

Oh no, guys, Mabel gasps at their parents in her typical overdramatic style, examining her sweater. Oh, no, it’s ruined, she moans, but she doesn’t mean it and Dipper knows what he saw.

She throws away the sweater, claiming it’s irreparable. Dipper knows it’s not.

He plans on cornering her after supper, his worries slightly sated after watching her actually eat a full meal, but wanting to talk nonetheless. Sometimes she picks at her food and tells her parents she ate a big lunch, when in fact, Dipper knows she didn’t eat more than a few carrot sticks. He says nothing because she looks at him with her puppy dog eyes but he wonders what happened. Mabel used to have an appetite that rivaled their father’s.

At bedtime, their parents stay downstairs to clean up and watch a show, and Dipper steels his nerves to walk upstairs, where Mabel had disappeared fifteen minutes ago. 

He walks up towards their room, and as he nears their door at the end of the hallway, he hears retching noises coming from the bathroom.

Well. That’s concerning.

He pounds on the door, and he hears Mabel whimper that it’s locked. He tries anyway, twisting the handle to find that her statement is incorrect, and pushes open the door, afraid of what he’ll see.

Mabel, in her pajama shorts and a tank top, kneels on the floor by the toilet. She weakly holds her hair back by one hand and she props herself up, holding the toilet seat in a white knuckled grip, with the other. She looks up at him with tears in her eyes before heaving over the toilet again, vomiting up even more of her supper.

Dipper wants to freeze, but rushes forward and grabs her hair for her. She sobs, shying away from him, shaking her head even as she retches forward.

No, no, no, she whimpers. You weren’t supposed to see.

Dipper knows the feeling, knows the humiliation of your weakest moments broadcast to the ones you love, but he can’t leave her here like this. So he looks away and rubs her back until she stops vomiting, and watches as she stands and rinses her mouth out with water.

She collapses to the tiled floor, boneless, hair hanging limp in front of her face. I’m sorry, he thinks he hears, and he scoots over to hold her. She cries for a while, and Dipper doesn’t know what to say. He tries multiple times to ask her what’s wrong, but the words get stuck in his throat, due to his knowledge that the conversation will turn tail back on him. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to talk yet.

But Mabel knows him better than he knows himself, and she starts talking in between her quiet, hiccuping sobs.

My day was perfect, she gasps, clutching at his arm with her gnawed down nails. Everything was going my way, everyone was nice to me and did exactly what I wanted, Mom made my favorite food, she continues, and Dipper feels his heart sink.

It was perfect, Mabel says. So I ripped my sweater to mess it up, but then - 

She stops, burying her face in his shoulder, seemingly unable to continue.

I ate too much, she murmurs. My day was perfect.

And it hits him, then, what’s been going on with her, and he feels so so stupid for not realizing earlier.

I can’t tell the difference between my perfect Mabel Land and reality, she chokes out, sounding bitter and not at all like his sister. And I know it’s stupid, but it scares me, and I can’t - I have to do something about it -

She breaks off with another silent cry.

Dipper doesn’t know how to fix this, and Mabel’s crying into his shirt, and he can’t think of anything else to say except -

I know what you’re feeling, he says softly. She looks up at him.

Sometimes I can’t tell if the people around me are real, he says. Sometimes I think their eyes flash yellow. Sometimes I wake up and I can’t feel my body.

He flinches, waiting for her response.

She inhales, long and slow. Sometimes I wonder if I ever really left, she says, voice wavery.

Dipper swallows and keeps talking, having unplugged the dam and unable to stop. Sometimes I hear him, talking in my head.

Sometimes I feel like I’m gonna wake up and this will have all been fake and you’re gonna be dead, she retaliates.

They sit there, on the bathroom floor, holding each other and crying. They spill their souls to each other, like twins are always meant to, and when it’s over they’re both a wreck. Dipper’s shaking and Mabel’s got snot running down her face, but they’re not crying anymore and Dipper actually feels better.

They sneak quietly up to their room, having disposed of all evidence of their breakdown, and as they squeeze into Mabel’s bed, Dipper holds his sister close.

This isn’t perfect, no. That’s fine. It’s not bad, either. 

They’re getting there, even though it takes two months for Dipper to stop flinching at physical contact and another week after that for Mabel to get back into her habits of eating everything in sight.

They’re getting there, Dipper thinks, and really, it’s all he could’ve asked for.


End file.
